


Show Me

by Willowe



Category: Almost Human
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Slight humiliation kink, no plot really just shameless smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowe/pseuds/Willowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You wanted to know how I feel pleasure? Well, we can start here. I want to watch you, John. I want you to show me what gets you off, because knowing that gets me off.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Me

**Author's Note:**

> Yet again I join a fandom with smut. This is my first time writing these two so I'm not sure how accurate their characterization is, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

“Show me.”

Those were the two words that started everything- although, to be fair, John’s pretty sure Dorian started this mess all those weeks ago when he pulled out that ridiculously huge cock of his and became the center of John’s daydreams every moment since. He’s pretty sure this breaks some police regulation, misuse of equipment at the very least, but he doesn’t like to think of Dorian as _equipment_. Almost as much as he really, _really_ doesn’t want to think about what he’s about to do.

Of course, it’s a little hard not to think about it when he has Dorian’s tongue halfway down his throat, the hard line of the android’s cock pressing hot against his own. That damn android cock that got John’s attention weeks ago, to the point where tonight he couldn’t help but ask, “So how do you feel pleasure anyway?”

He’s still not sure, to be honest, whether Dorian’s reactions are organic or forced. They didn’t quite get to that point in the conversation before Dorian leaned over and kissed him, and from there it was just a matter of minutes and a lot of manhandling to get them both in John’s bedroom. He’s lost his shirt somewhere between the living room and here, and he’s just trying to get Dorian’s shirt off as well when the android steps back and says those two damn words. 

“Show me.”

John fumbles for Dorian, trying to keep him close, but he’s no match for android strength or determination and Dorian pulls away easily, leaving John standing there with his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, wondering when things took this turn. “What? No, come back here, I want you-”

“Well that’s certainly flattering, but I’m staying here for the time being,” Dorian says with that familiar small half-smile, though right now it’s more like a half-smirk and it both irritates John and makes him even harder. Dorian leans against the wall, crosses his arms, and continues. “You wanted to know how I feel pleasure? Well, we can start here. I want to watch you, John. I want you to show me what gets you off, because knowing that gets me off.”

“And you think I’m just going to go along with that?” John asks sarcastically, reflexively, because he can already feel his blood racing south at the idea of Dorian watching. It’s not something that normally gets him going, being on display. He’s not self-conscious, exactly, but he’s always preferred being on an even-footing with his partners and there’s nothing equal about this at all. That’s more than enough to get him wanting to deflect, to get him on the defensive.

He remembers, a split-second too late, that no matter what he says Dorian will still be able to read his physical reactions, and that half-smile turning into a full-blown smugness tells him that the android knows his words are just a front. “Show me, John,” Dorian murmurs again.

John shudders, and any chance of him trying to bluff his way out of this disappears immediately. If Dorian wants a show, then that’s exactly what he’s going to get.

It takes a special sort of person to be able to strip sexily and John has never been that sort of person, nor does he think he ever will be. Mostly he feels a little bit ridiculous as he toes off his boot and pops the button on his jeans, drags the zipper down slowly, and he doesn’t even have the benefit of physical reactions from Dorian to gauge how well his performance is being received. 

“You just gonna keep staring at me, not saying anything?” John grumbles, tugging down his jeans and stepping out of them but leaving his boxer-briefs on for the time being. 

Dorian gives him a slow once-over, eyes lingering on the hard line of his cock straining against the front of his briefs. “Why, does dirty talk get you off?” Dorian asks, finally looking John in the eye. 

John swallows harshly. He doesn’t know how to answer that so instead he lets one of his hands drift down to the waistband of his briefs, fingers dipping just barely underneath to play with the wiry hairs. “Do you want me to show you, or not?” he asks, going for annoyed but his voice is already too rough to really pull it off. 

“By all means, go ahead,” Dorian says with a small wave of his hand. “Pretend I’m not here if it makes you feel better.”

“Not sure that would help,” John mutters as he climbs on the bed and moves to lean back against the pillows. “God, I feel ridiculous.”

“But you’re enjoying this.” Dorian cocks his head a little, studying John with a level of scrutiny that makes him uncomfortable, before smiling slightly. “It’s not dirty talk. It’s humiliation, isn’t? You like being a little uncomfortable.”

John can feel his face flushing with both embarrassment and a sudden flush of arousal. “If you want me to do anything you’d better shut up now,” he warns. It’s not a denial, and they both know it.

Dorian laughs. “Alright man, we’ll explore that some other time. Go ahead.”

John’s brain is stuck on _some other time_ , the implication that this isn’t going to be it, and it takes him a moment to actually get moving. 

John doesn’t do slow sex. If he does sex at all- and lately that hasn’t really been on his radar- he wants it hard and fast, a sudden rush of pleasure instead of that heady slow-build that he knows Dorian is looking for. It’s a struggle at first to think of what to do beside reach down and jerk off quickly and he lets his hand trail over his body, not really lingering on any one area but just letting the gentle sensations sink into his skin and slowly feed his arousal.

It’s nice, actually, in its own sort of way, but John can’t forget that he’s doing this because Dorian asked. Because Dorian wants to see him fall apart under his own hands. Because Dorian apparently _gets off_ on this sort of thing. That gets him focusing on the android again, on those striking blue eyes that are cataloguing every minute move John makes.

_Show me_ , Dorian had said, so John will show him.

The hand that had been moving in random patterns over his body suddenly has a purpose. He strokes down the curve of his neck to his chest, swiping his thumb over one nipple and can’t quite hold back a gasp. Christ, he forgot how sensitive he is here and he arches up into his touch as he rolls the tight bud between his fingers, pinches hard and curses at the bolt of pleasure that shoots through him.

“John,” Dorian murmurs, shifting from where he’s still leaning against the wall. John can see the hard line of his dick straining against the front of his pants and John knows what it feels like to have that cock pressed against him, knows what it feels like to rub against it, delicious friction even through layers of clothing. 

John wants to know what that cock feels like in his hand, in his mouth, wants to know the taste of it and that pleasure-pain as it pushes into him. It’s rare that he wants that, but god it’s all that he’s desperate for right now. 

But that’s not what they’re playing here. 

“Don’t move,” John says, voice low and dark. “Just stay there, and watch me.”

“Gladly,” Dorian says quietly, and settles back against the wall.

How the android can have the willpower to stop himself from reaching down and touching himself is a mystery because all John wants to do is give up on this teasing and focus solely on his cock. He gives into the temptation just briefly, palming himself through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, hips jerking up into that touch and trying to get more friction against his dick. 

He grits his teeth when he pulls his hand away, just barely holding back the whine of desperation that threatens to come out. He pushes down his underwear, hissing as his cock gets trapped in the waistband and bounces hard against the planes of his stomach. It’s flushed a dark red and he’s already dripping precome, because he always ends up fucking drenched no matter how excited he is. It’s always been a sore spot with him, partners making jokes about how wet he gets for them, but Dorian’s eyes have zeroed in on that thin thread of precome trailing between his cock and his stomach, staring at it like it’s the hottest thing he’s seen as he unconsciously shifts again, and for once John doesn’t mind the sticky mess gathering on his stomach.

Dorian technically doesn’t need to breathe so his breaths don’t speed up, doesn’t blush so his skin doesn’t flush from arousal, and has enough patience that even though John told him to shut up what feels like ages ago he’s still being silent. But John can read the android nonetheless, can see his appreciation in the way his eyes follow John’s movements when he reaches down to roll his balls in one hand, the way he keeps shifting ever-so-slightly against that wall even if he doesn’t ever reach to touch himself. 

It’s like a challenge, trying to get more of those subtle reactions out of Dorian, a challenge that John just isn’t going to lose. 

So he ramps up his own actions, moans a little louder as he fondles his balls, gasps when he reaches further back and rubs against his perineum, against his crack and along the crease where his thighs meet his ass. 

“John, I want to see…” Dorian says, starting to sound a little desperate himself.

John smirks at that, feeling triumphant even if his own action are torturous for himself. “See what?” he asks, groaning as he pulls his hand back and it brushes against the base of his cock. 

“ _Show me_ ,” Dorian growls, synthetic patience finally wearing thin.

“Not yet,” John says, and finally, _finally_ , wraps a hand around his cock.

He arches up into the contact but doesn’t move his hand for a long moment, can’t move his hand because one stroke and he knows he’ll be done and despite his earlier hesitation he’s not ready to end this quite yet, not now when he’s finally starting to noticeably affect Dorian. It takes every ounce of self-control that he has to keep from tumbling over that edge, but when he finally strokes himself from root to tip it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever felt, direct pleasure after an eon of teasing zinging through him and lighting him up from the inside out. 

He keep his strokes light, teasing, although it’s a struggle not to give in and jerk off hard and fast until he comes like he’s so desperate to do. He twists his hand on the upstroke, thumbs under the head, tugs at his foreskin, lets his fingers trail through the pool of precome at the slit before sliding stickily back down to the base of his cock.

He gets lost in his movements, throws his head back and lets his hips rock up into his hand, body undulating against the bed. He needs more than this and clenches his other hand in the sheets so he doesn’t reach down and start working himself open, even though that’s all he wants to do. He pauses his repetitive movements to focus solely on the head of his cock, gritting his teeth and locking his muscles to stop from writhing as he rubs the palm of his hand over the head again and again until he can barely stand it. He strokes over the head lightly with one finger, stopping to press against the slit and forcing more precome out which drips slowly over his finger and down the length of his cock.

Dorian makes a strangled little noise and John’s eyes are drawn back to him. At some point the android had undone his pants, not pulling them down or pulling himself down but just palming himself through his exposed underwear. “Don’t go getting off just yet,” John says, breathing heavily. “Still want you to fuck me sometime this night.”

Dorian laughs. Is John imagining how breathy he sounds, or is that real- at least as real as it can be for the android? “You realize my refractory period is basically nonexistent, right?”

John groans and pulls his hand off his cock quickly. “Yeah well mine isn’t, so unless you want this to end now you can’t talk like that, okay?”

“You’re severely underestimating my abilities if you think I’d let this end so quickly,” Dorian says with a smirk, but he pulls his hand away from his crotch and settles against the wall again. “But have it your way. Go on. Show me.”

John brings his hand up to his mouth, sucks on two of his fingers more to put on a show than because he’s actually going to work himself open with only spit as lube. But it works well enough for rubbing against the rim of his hole, pressing gently and teasing before easing in just the tip of one finger up to the first joint, thumb rubbing against his perineum as he fumbles with his other hand for the bedside drawer.

He pulls a mostly-full bottle of lube out, grateful that he had the foresight to buy some more even if he hasn’t had much opportunity to use it. He pulls his hand away from his ass, slicks up his fingers, and pushes one back in with a harsh exhale. It’s been awhile since he’s done this, not since he woke up from his coma and even before then it wasn’t exactly a common occurrence. But that doesn’t make much of a difference once he starts moving his finger, sliding it in and out in slow, shallow movements, because every fiber of his being remembers how good this can be and feeling that pleasure slowly build is like nothing else. 

He pushes in a second finger, groaning at the tight fit, at the way he can’t stop himself from clenching down around them, but he works himself open as quickly as he can, patience wearing thin. Dorian keeps shifting, he can hear him moving but he doesn’t look up to see what exactly the android is doing because he’s not sure he’d be able to keep it together if he does. He adds a third finger maybe a little too quickly, muffling a curse into the inside of his other arm which his slung over his head, and has to pause until the burn fades into something more pleasurable than painful.

The slow slide of his fingers is good, really good, but not nearly enough for him. His hand is twisted at an awkward angle, can’t really push in deep enough to do more than tease lightly at his prostate, and his fingers aren’t nearly thick enough to satisfy him, not when he looks up and sees that Dorian has pushed his jeans and briefs down to his knees and is lightly stroking that unnaturally large cock of his. 

John groans and works in his pinky alongside his other fingers, gasping at the stretch. Dorian groans outright and that’s it, John can’t take any more of this. 

“C’mon Dorian, get over here, I want you,” he says, pulling his fingers free and reaching for the lube so he can slick up that gorgeous cock.

But Dorian doesn’t move, just stays where he is against the wall, still slowly stroking his cock instead of getting with the program and putting it to better use. 

“You going deaf or something? Get over here!” John orders, glaring at the android who still has that damned smirk on his face. 

Dorian still refuses to move- but he does speak.

“Show me.”

It takes a minute for the meaning of those words to sink in and John flushes immediately from that heady combination of embarrassment and arousal. “No,” he says quickly. “Fuck no. Not happening. Now get up here.”

“Not until you show me.” Dorian is still smirking and John grinds his teeth, wanting to go over there and wipe that look off his damn _synthetic_ face, even though he knows from experience that punching a bot is a bad idea. “I can be patient, John,” Dorian says. “I’m not moving until you show me. And you know you want to…”

No. John’s put up with everything so far, but this is one thing he’s just not going to do. It’s humiliating, and completely unnecessary, and-

_And Dorian still isn’t moving_.

“I hate you so fucking much,” John mutters, scrubbing at his face with one hand. He’s not going to get out of this, and they both know it. 

He can’t look at Dorian as he does this. He _can’t_ , because as it is he’s riding that edge between embarrassed-arousal and outright-humiliation and one look at the android will have him shutting down immediately. So he focuses on the ceiling above him as he bring his knees up as close to his chest as he can and reaches down to spread himself open.

The room is silent, and never has John been so acutely aware of how not-human Dorian is. No human partner could be that quiet in a moment like this, no human could hold back moans and comments and resist the temptation to reach out and touch. Without those familiar cues John’s world has narrowed down to the war between how humiliating this is and how it’s making his heart race and cock throb with need. He can feel the cool air against his lube-slick hole, that sensitive pucker clenching against nothing, worked open on his own fingers and damnit, he needs _more_ -

A hand suddenly strokes up the inside of his thigh, the coolness of synthetic skin startling John and one of his hands slips away, his leg dropping until Dorian catches it and holds it out so John is still spread open. “Easy, John,” he says gently as he brings his free hand down to tease at the rim of John’s hole. 

John groans and squeezes his eyes shut because Dorian is finally, _finally_ here but these light touches aren’t nearly enough. “Dorian…”

“I’ve got you,” Dorian says. “I know what you need.”

And he probably does, probably has been monitoring every movement John makes, every involuntary reaction from his body as he teased and tormented himself. And John’s always insisted that Dorian’s ability to read him like that was weird, unnatural, invasive, but right now he draws some strange comfort from it. If Dorian says he knows what John needs, then how can John not trust that?

He hears the _snick_ of the lube being popped open and he’s trying to bite back the disappointment at not being able to slick up Dorian’s cock himself when he’s suddenly pulled up and over so he’s straddling the android, who moved to lay down on the bed in John’s place. John’s used to reacting to sudden changes on the fly, one of the side-effects of being a cop for so long, so he’s not surprised when Dorian passes him the lube and murmurs, “Go ahead.”

John is a little bit happy that a blowjob doesn’t seem to be in the cards because up close Dorian’s cock is even larger than he expected, long and thick and perfect but not really something he wants to choke on when he’s so out of practice and so desperate to finally get fucked. _Next time_ , he promises to himself, because after all Dorian had said this wouldn’t be a one-off thing. No need to do everything tonight.

His hand just barely fits around Dorian’s cock as he slicks it up, fingers hardly even brushing each other as he spreads lube over the dick that’s just slightly cooler than a human’s, though he finds he doesn’t mind as much as he expected to. Dorian has his head thrown back, and when John thumbs over the head he gasps, hips jerking in a tiny, aborted motion. “So you do feel this,” John says, squeezing once more just to hear the android groan. 

“’Course I do,” Dorian says. His voice is definitely rougher, and John is past the point of caring whether that’s faked or not. “C’mon, come here.”

Dorian reaches out and grabs John by the hips, moving him in to place so Dorian’s cock is brushing against the cleft of his ass. Being manhandled should not be that hot because John never enjoys being the weaker partner, but if there’s anyone John would trust to take complete control it’s Dorian. 

John knows what’s coming before Dorian says anything and when the android does open his mouth to speak, it’s both of them who murmur, “Show me.”

John’s hand shaking ever-so-slightly as he reaches back and grabs Dorian’s cock. The android still has his hands on Johns hips, steadying him as he pushes up, lines up Dorian’s cock with his hole, and begins to sink down onto it. That first stretch takes his breath away, because all that fingering means shit in the face of how huge Dorian’s cock actually is, and once the head pops past his tired ring of muscle he groans and has to stop, waiting for the pain to fade into something more manageable. 

It takes several long minutes for him to fully seat himself, working himself down onto the cock in small increments, and his legs are shaking with the strain of holding himself up by the time he sinks down those last few inches and his ass is flush with Dorian’s body. The android is rubbing soothing circles into his skin and the side of his face lights up blue as he looks over John’s body. 

“You’re in pain,” he says quietly. That smirk is gone, replaced with the slightest of frowns. 

John doesn’t like that. 

“Yeah well, you’re fucking huge,” John counters. “Just… give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”

Dorian looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t try to do anything stupid like pull John off him so John ignores him, focuses on relaxing as much as possible, and when he finally rocks slowly, experimentally, it’s more pleasure than pain. He shifts slightly, changing the angle so Dorian’s cock is rubbing gently against his prostate with every slow roll if his hips and he moans, head thrown back as he lets his body get used to being split open like this.

He doesn’t need Dorian telling him _show me_ for him to start moving faster. He braces his hands against Dorian’s chest, surprised to see it rise and fall with fake breaths when there’s no racing heart to accompany it, and lifts himself up fully and sinks back down. Dorian’s hands tighten on his hips and he starts thrusting up into John’s movements, going quicker and driving John to move faster, harder, in response. 

“Fucking- goddamn Dorian, your fucking cock,” John gasps, slamming his hips down hard. He’s going to be a mess of bruises and sore muscles tomorrow, hips riddled with the imprints of Dorian’s fingers and legs screaming at him for this sort of abuse, but right now he couldn’t care less. 

“Knew you’d be a talker,” Dorian says with a slight laugh. “Don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

“You want me to shut up?” John asks, clenching around Dorian’s length just to hear the android groan. “Then fucking make me.”

Dorian’s eyes light up at the challenge and before John knows what’s happening their positions are being reversed again, his legs being pushed up tight to his chest as Dorian practically folds him in half before pushing in with a thrust hard enough to make John shout. 

The android sets a punishing pace, thrusting in hard and quick and John can’t do much but hold on for the ride, nails digging into Dorian’s back as he curses and cries out until Dorian leans down to kiss him, muffling his noises with the press of his lips. It’s fucking perfect, the hot slide of Dorian’s thick cock and the weight of the android holding him in place, and part of John never wants this to end but he’s been too close for too long and he needs to come, just needs Dorian to touch him-

He doesn’t realize that he’s been pleading aloud until Dorian stops kissing him and grab one of John’s hands, bringing it down to his cock and whispering, “Show me, John. Show me, show me, show me…”

John comes like that, with Dorian’s chant echoing in his ears and his cock splitting him open and his hand on top of John’s own as he strokes himself only a handful of times before he’s spilling between them. Dorian doesn’t slow down and John whines with every thrust, everything almost overwhelming to his over-sensitive nerves. But it isn’t long before Dorian cries out, hips jerking and his face lighting up, and John doesn’t feel the rush of come filling him up but he knows the android came anyway and that’s more than enough for him.

Dorian pulls out slowly, gently, releasing John’s legs and moving to grab a washcloth from the bathroom which is nice because John doesn’t think he’s going to be able to move anytime now. He doesn’t even put up a fuss when Dorian carefully disconnects his synthetic leg and hooks it up to the charging port, and when the android climbs back into bed along his right side he doesn’t feel the expected rush of shame when Dorian’s legs tangle with his own.

“So, did that answer your question?” Dorian asks quietly.

John is more than half-asleep at this point so it takes a moment for the words to sink in, but even when they do they don’t make much sense. “Question?” he repeats sleepily.

“About how I feel pleasure,” Dorian clarifies. He definitely sounds amused but John doesn’t exactly have the energy to be annoyed about that right now.

“Oh.” Right. That question. “Might need more data,” he murmurs, words starting to slur together as his eyes drift shut. “Need to repeat that.”

Dorian chuckles, and presses a gentle kiss to John’s temple. “Alright, man. As long as you don’t wake up in the morning and freak out on me.”

“Make me coffee and we’ll be good,” John say around a yawn as he curls against the android. 

Dorian doesn’t move or respond, and in that last moment of consciousness John wonders if the android has already fallen asleep, if he’s actually capable of sleeping or not. Maybe he’ll ask about it tomorrow; after all, he can’t exactly complain about the result of tonight’s questioning.


End file.
